


Détente

by Palebluedot



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Brooklyn, Canon Compliant, Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Helicarrier, M/M, Missing Scene, kind of, linear time is for chumps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 12:58:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7104409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Palebluedot/pseuds/Palebluedot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One January day in 1939, Steve Rogers falls through thin ice and nearly drowns. Seventy-five years later, water tries to take him again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Détente

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blanketed_in_stars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blanketed_in_stars/gifts).



> ...who keeps finding clever ways to trick me into getting inspired to actually write, instead of my usual MO of Not Writing. 
> 
> Nicole - spot the reference to _Like A Second Heart._ It's small but it's there.
> 
> Everyone else - go read [blanketed_in_stars' _Like A Second Heart_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7082482), it's _beautiful._

He falls right through the ice.

The park rings with a sickening crack, like splintering bone, then all 95 pounds of him flail around in the water like he thinks he can slug his way right out of hypothermia. A woman screams, yells something about the fire department, a dog's going nuts yapping at the pigeons flapping away in a panic, Steve's hands scrabble for purchase on the shattered ice, his gasp for air comes out like a croak, a death rattle in reverse, and Bucky doesn't think, just whips off his coat and runs.

He's already sinking.

The river swallows up the target – no, the man from the bridge – _no_ – and he's gone. No blue uniform – familiar, enemy, _familiar_ – no billowing trail of red to track. That can't stop him, find a way, always has, never leave a mission incomplete, it's not allowed – screeching metal, acrid air, cracked ribs – he doesn't notice, not important. There's still no sign of life down below. He doesn't know what that means.

The water barrels closer, the choking wind slices like a whip. It's still such a long way to fall.

The Potomac runs so cold, even in summer, deep waters flow like liquid glaciers – there's ice everywhere, thin shards of it sliding over the dark hole Steve just disappeared through, he's scared and it's January and his breath makes a cloud as he sprints and throws off his threadbare coat, praying, there's blood on his hands, blood in the water, blood on the ice - his knuckles are split, another schoolyard scrap? - the rubble smokes and spits oil, a tactical disadvantage, he's scared, he's _scared_ , he's not supposed to be so -

A bedroom. Warm and clean and dry. “Y-you shouldn't've jumped in after me like that, Buck,” Steve mumbles through full-body shudders, fixing him with such a look that for a hot second Bucky's afraid of Mrs. Rogers finding them up past their bedtime. But she's already been buried a year and a half. He pulls Steve in tighter, 'til he can feel his ribs pressed sharp against his own chest. “Catch y'r death 'f cold.” The words muffle against his skin.

Bucky reaches around where Steve's tucked into his side, slowly soaking up the puddle of their mixing body heat, and hikes the quilt a little higher over them both so it covers their heads – _like when we were kids_ , he thinks, and almost smiles. His hands shake real bad, slip and fumble over the fabric. He hopes Steve doesn't notice. “Yeah, well, you didn't leave me much choice, pal. If you'd gone and drowned, I'd've had to kill ya.”

Steve chuckles, and his breath huffs warm over Bucky's neck. “You, kill me. Like to s-see you try.” His eyes slide shut, and he sighs, smiling softly in spite of his shivering.

 And Bucky can't help but press a kiss into Steve's hair, still damp from the pond, because he's right, he knows he'd _die_ before he'd ever hurt Steve, and thank God he's okay. So he breathes in deep through his nose and feels Steve's contented hum down to his bones.

Down below, Steve gulps a lungful of river, and doesn't notice.

_If he drowns, I'll kill him, if he drowns, I'll kill him, if he drowns –_

“I'll kill him,” whispers Bucky, and dives.


End file.
